


every song you've ever sung

by warsfeil



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 20:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10951785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil
Summary: Leo can't quite seem to stop making mistakes, and Eichi Tenshouin is one of them.Rule 63 genderbend; written for the EnStars kink meme!





	every song you've ever sung

Leo probably shouldn’t let this keep happening. It isn’t as though she meant for things to turn out this way when she ran into Eichi! Leo was just trying to buy more staff paper from the school store at the last minute and instead she’d found the Empress herself, smelling like some sort of imported tea leaves and smiling like meeting Leo in the halls was an unusual and pleasurable occurrence. Leo found herself weak to that smile, to that voice, to those _words_ that Eichi could drop so easily like a melody Leo could only dream of replicating.

She should have left before Eichi started talking. She should have left, if not then, when Eichi had reached forward, had deftly tucked a strand of Leo’s vibrant hair behind her ear. Instead, Leo had just snapped that she could take care of her hair herself, was perfectly capable of handling things like hair and shopping for her own composition tools, and she had reached up to push Eichi’s hand away.

Of course Eichi had laced their fingers together, instead, and by then it was too late to leave, and Leo knew it. Dealing with Eichi is a study in Leo’s own insanity – she repeats the same actions over and over again like something will change (like this time, Leo will leave!) and nothing ever does. Well, that’s what broken people do, so Leo supposes it isn’t too much of a surprise.

The point – because there’s always a point, even if it’s hard for anyone but Leo to follow – is that she should have left, and didn’t, and she’s only lying to herself if she tries to claim she didn’t know it would turn out exactly like this, pressed up against the wall with Eichi’s lips on hers and a performance to do in under an hour.

“Are you going to be late?” Eichi asks, breathless; Leo thinks she can hear Eichi’s voice down into her very bones, making a home inside of Leo’s skin and re-emerging as a thousand different melodies that Leo can never get right when she writes them down.

“Don’t be stupid,” Leo says, arrogant and as loud as she dares to be when the only thing between them and discovery is the dressing room door. “You don’t have enough stamina to make me late! If this is a distraction technique so that Knights does poorly, then it’s—“

“Working,” Eichi interjects smoothly, and something about it makes Leo’s traitorous knees incredibly weak. “I’m not the one that has to perform later.” Which is a valid point, and one that Leo would love to refute, except that Eichi’s lips are on her neck, tracing a line of heat down to her collarbone, and Leo’s protests and objections die before they’re ever given life.

“So this is all just a nefarious plan to make us lose—“

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eichi says, and the fact that she manages to sound so regal and lofty when her hand is sliding so deftly inside Leo’s shirt, fingers dodging the buttons with ease to drag nails across the point where Leo’s bra meets her skin. “I have no intentions of trying to retake my previous position at this school.”

Which should be a relief, because Leo is in no position to deal with the Empress when she wants to take over a school. Thinking about _the last time_ , italicized in Leo’s own thoughts, is enough to make her blood run cold and her breath stutter in her lungs and she shouldn’t find Eichi’s cold fingers on her breast nearly as arousing as she does.

Leo, it seems, is making a lot of poor decisions these days.

“Then what are you trying to do? Are you trying to ruin Knights just for fun? Because I won’t let y—“ Leo’s voice cuts off, going into a high squeak as Eichi’s cold fingertips find her nipple and pull just hard enough to distract her from anything she might have been trying to say.

“Weren’t you the one who tried to disband your own unit?” Eichi’s words are hot against Leo’s ear, and things like temperature feel like so much more than they are when they’re coming from Eichi like this.

“I,” Leo starts, and then falters, because Eichi has always been so good at breaking down all of Leo’s carefully constructed walls. Eichi could break her again, as easily as the first time, and Leo knows that she would let her, she would get on her knees and ask for it if Eichi really wanted her to, and the familiar feeling of self-disgust churns in her stomach.

Leo’s hands hold onto Eichi’s hips, and she wishes she were taller, because it’s so easy for Eichi to keep her pinned against the wall. For someone so sick, Eichi is still strong; all those live performances haven’t gone to waste, and there’s strength in even her fingers as they move around to unhook Leo’s bra.

“My shirt isn’t even off yet, you blockheaded—“

“Aren’t we on a time limit?” Eichi replies, sliding her knee between Leo’s thighs. It pushes Leo’s underwear up and she is abruptly aware in perfect clarity that she is going to need to change her underwear after this, and she isn’t certain that she has a backup—

Leo responds by kissing Eichi, because it seems like the thing to do at a time like this, when Leo is already letting herself be swept up by the overwhelming tide that is Eichi. The way Eichi kisses her back makes her shift up, rutting against Eichi’s leg where it’s pressed between her own, and when Eichi reaches up to pull Leo’s hair tie out of the way so she can better tangle her fingers into it, all Leo can do is let out a light noise. It doesn’t sound nearly as much like a protest as it probably should, but Leo knows that it wouldn’t make Eichi stop either way.

Leo doesn’t really want her to stop, now. Their relationship is complicated, these days, far beyond what Leo could ever have been prepared for when it came to high school, but this – this is easy; this is familiar. Leo knows Eichi’s skin practically as well as she knows her own, these days, and she knows exactly what Eichi wants from her, in this.

It’s not far from what Leo wants herself, most of the time, but never dares to ask for. Who would understand? Leo has long since fallen from the pedestal that almost everyone else put her on; she has failed the rest of Knights so acutely that she’s aware of it every time she sees them – she couldn’t tell them that all she wants is to close her eyes and let go and let Eichi do whatever she wants.

Eichi finally breaks the kiss, and it’s a certain form of gratifying that she’s breathing harder than Leo is. She opens her mouth and Leo is gripped by the desperate desire not to hear a single thing that Eichi might say. Instead, she reaches up, braces her hands on Eichi’s shoulders and pushes down with all the strength she can manage. She might be shorter, but she’s still strong when it comes down to it, and Eichi goes down easily, cascading to her knees. Predictably, Eichi reaches up to drag Leo down after her, and Leo goes, willingly; presses the wood grain floor into her knees and pushes Eichi back.

It’s almost like being in control of the situation, when she crawls forward, straddles Eichi and tries not to automatically shift down in search of more friction. She rests a hand between Eichi’s breasts; feels the stiff underwire of her bra, the way her chest heaves up with every breath. Eichi might be suicidal, with how often she exerts herself when she shouldn’t, but Leo doesn’t have any room to talk about things like that.

Leo might be in her Knights uniform, but Eichi is just in the school uniform, which means it’s considerably easier to get to her skin. Leo has a skirt and leggings and at least three separate layers on her upper body, not to mention the various fastenings – Eichi’s blazer is easy to open, and she doesn’t protest when Eichi’s fingers go to the buttons of her uniform shirt.

“Are you going to undress me instead?” Eichi asks, her voice pitched coy, like her blue eyes (the sky, the ocean, Leo is drowning and asphyxiating and falling every time she looks at them) aren’t darkened with lust, like Leo isn’t close enough to smell the sharp scent of her interest every time they shift.

“You’re not performing,” Leo snaps, waving a hand in a gesture that would mean more if she didn’t immediately drop her hand back down to undo the last button on Eichi’s shirt, to push fabric layers aside and run gloved hands down the slim lines of Eichi’s stomach. Leo sounds grumpy, she knows she does, so she buries the self-doubt and the uncertainty in action, instead, presses her lips in against the side of Eichi’s rib cage and feels her muscles flutter in response.

Eichi just raises a leg in response, draws her knee up to tilt Leo forward until Leo’s loose hair is spilling down over her shoulders. She reaches up, wraps her arms around Leo and shifts her hips, rolls them up in a way that is entirely too lewd for the student council president to be doing on the floor of a dressing room.

“Then that means I can tire myself out,” Eichi says, and Leo reflects that she isn’t going to manage to _tire out_ Eichi before she has to go perform, because Eichi is as insatiable as she is intelligent, but still. There’s something like a challenge in Eichi’s words, and Leo can’t help but take the bait the same way she always does.

She slips backwards, off Eichi’s lap; spreads Eichi’s thighs and then _sits on them_ triumphantly, as though she’s finally found her throne. Eichi pushes herself up by her elbows, looks down at Leo with the carefully unconcerned amusement that the Empress is famous for, and Leo feels another twist inside her stomach.

Leo should stop being so predictable; she should stop playing right into Eichi’s hands; she should get up and leave _right now_.

Instead, she shoves up Eichi’s skirt. Eichi’s hips lift automatically, and Leo isn’t even touching her yet, not really, but that doesn’t matter. Leo lifts a hand up, takes a glove off with her teeth so she can keep her other hand steady on Eichi’s body.

“Tire me out, ou-sama,” Eichi says, an imperious command as she reaches to twine Leo’s hair around her fingertips. It makes Leo’s heart leap to beat furiously inside her throat, because she’s seen Eichi do the same gesture on others, on people that still stand by Eichi, on people that Eichi never threw away, and Leo wonders if there’s a future far-flung out in space and time where she and Eichi were happy and weren’t caught in a never-ending rotation of trying to defeat the other.

Leo is already tired, but she can’t stop this; she’s come too far. Her hands are already shaking with the desire to step away and run as fast as she can all the way back home – she can hide in her room again, refuse to come out until Izumi is forced to come fetch her –

No, she can’t do that. So, instead, she leans into Eichi’s fingertips, catlike, looks down at Yumenosaki’s Empress spread beneath her, and presses her bare fingertips to Eichi through the damp cloth of her underwear.

“You’re too demanding,” Leo critiques, ignoring the way Eichi moves against her hand, presses down in search of more fiction. Leo doesn’t have any friction right now, so Eichi can deal with it for a few seconds.

“You have to be kept on a short leash,” Eichi says, and Leo flinches. “Don’t run away again.”

Leo is rapidly losing, and isn’t sure why she’s even bothering to try and speak when Eichi is so much better at ripping her words apart and turning them around on her. Eichi’s fingers curl in her hair, and Leo has a rapid decision to make – so she makes what is probably, objectively, a stupid one, like all the others leading to this point. She reaches up with nails that Arashi so painstakingly painted for her earlier and pulls Eichi’s underwear down to her knees, leans in and tries to pretend like this is exactly what she wants to be doing when she presses her tongue against Eichi.

Eichi tastes the same, and Leo wishes she didn’t know the taste so well. It’s too easy to close her eyes, to taste salt and musk on her tongue and pretend that it’s the way it was before, when Leo still thought that she was someone special to Eichi.

Eichi’s hips move in the same short, fluid motions that they always have when Leo buries her tongue inside of her. It’s easy for Leo to hold Eichi down, even when Eichi lifts one leg the rest of the way out of her delicately patterned underwear to wrap around Leo, to egg her closer and deeper.

Every moan that Eichi lets out, light and breathless, is a note that Leo mentally charts out. She doesn’t write it down, she commits it to memory, adds to the careful mental symphony of Eichi that she’s been compiling ever since the first time Eichi let their fingers twine together. Leo remembers their first kiss. She wrote a song about it. She never told Eichi.

“Leo,” Eichi says, and Leo can’t help but cling to the way Eichi says her name. No one else says it like that, no one else lets her name roll off the tongue like praise, like she isn’t an abject failure of a person. “Leo—“

It’s encouragement, in its own way, and that’s what Leo craves. She wants to be enough, she wants to be worthwhile; she wants to be more than commissioned compositions and the futility of trying to erase her old mistakes. She should never have followed Eichi to begin with, because all paths always seem to lead her: to the soft skin of Eichi underneath her fingers.

Eichi’s hips buck up and Leo shoves them down, musters every bit of strength she has to hold her in place, to twist her tongue in just the right way that makes Eichi choke on her own moan when she comes. Her body twitches, clamping down and jerking, and Leo doesn’t stop, not right away, keeps going, not until she feels Eichi start to jerk and feels a brief urge to keep going after that—

But Eichi has hands in Leo’s hair and pulls her up, kissing her like she doesn’t even care where Leo’s mouth just was. Eichi’s bangs are damp where they lay on her forehead, and her chest heaves as she inhales, half-dressed on the dressing room floor.

Leo doesn’t say anything, for a moment; she lays her head down on Eichi’s chest and listens to the sound of her heartbeat. She taps notes onto Eichi’s arm, the sounds she’s given Eichi’s voice, a three-note song that she’s never heard played and never will, even in the afterglow like this.

Eichi runs her fingers through Leo’s hair. She catches her breath and keeps her eyes half-lidded, and Leo doesn’t need to look at her because she can see it so clearly in her mind. She can get lost in Eichi’s eyes without ever looking at them. It’s such a problem.

When Eichi sits up, Leo moves back; she’s still achingly aroused, her underwear less _damp_ and more of an entire lost cause – but Eichi is just straightening up her bra, buttoning up her shirt and tugging her underwear back up. Leo’s stomach twists, because this isn’t the first time her selfish empress has taken something so easily without a hint of returning it.

Eichi leans down, once she’s presentable again. Leo is still kneeling, fists clenched on her legs, trying to pretend she doesn’t care, that she isn’t craving Eichi’s touch, like she won’t go home tonight and trace fingers down her body and imagine that they’re Eichi’s.

Eichi tips Leo’s chin up to look at her; leans down and presses their lips together again.

“I’ll be watching your live,” Eichi whispers, voice soft, the words breathed into Leo’s lips more than given volume.

Eichi leaves and takes the melody inside Leo’s mind with her. 

Leo stands, and pretends like her hands aren’t shaking as she pulls her hair back into place.

**Author's Note:**

> "what if they didn't want 3,000 words of girl leo crying into eichi's vagina, which is basically what this fic is" i ask my friend as i stare blankly at my word document wondering when my life went so wrong.


End file.
